


Breakfast & Dinner & Me & You

by basilsprout



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Cooking, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Living Together, M/M, how did this turn into a fic about onions i don't know, mostly rambling idk where the plot went..., snippets of their day together, they're both saps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 04:48:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17176205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/basilsprout/pseuds/basilsprout
Summary: "Daichi figures the two of them must look ridiculous right now, crouched in the middle of the kitchen, snickering and weeping and frantically seeking relief from the chemical warfare of a farm vegetable. But seeing Kuroo like this, snorting unattractively with snot beginning to dribble from his nose, makes him realize that this is a side of Kuroo that only he has the privilege of seeing, and he wouldn’t have it any other way."--It's been a week since Daichi and Kuroo have moved in together, and they spend the day doing domestic things.





	Breakfast & Dinner & Me & You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kythen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kythen/gifts).



> Dear Ky,
> 
> It's me (pau) your Secret Santa!! I want to apologize first for being so late to post this;; Thank you so much for your patience!
> 
> To be honest I was really nervous writing this at first since I'm such a huge fan of your works, but I enjoyed working on it and hope you enjoy reading it too :) I went with the domestic!AU prompt, because who doesn't love these two dorks being domestic with each other?
> 
> I hope you have a wonderful holiday season filled with lots of good food and family!

Kuroo wakes with a groan, face smushed into drool-dampened sheets and arms seeking warmth from what seems to be a decidedly Daichi-less pile of blankets.  

“Mmmmf.”

He is immediately hit with a faint tingling at the back of his throat, a tell-tale sign that he’d been breathing through his mouth the entire night and that the slight sniffles he’d gotten the day before were rapidly evolving into some kind of evil cold. He feels the congestion all the way at the center of his skull, almost, and he huffs a little bit, cursing internally and squirming within his blankets.

It was probably Bokuto who had given him the bug--he’d offered a sniffly Bokuto a sip from his mocha the other day, hand on his chest and signature smirk in position, “bro, I haven’t gotten sick in like, _forever._ ”

 _Well. Guess that’s the end of that era_ , Kuroo thinks, face still mashed into the depths of his mini pillow fort.

As his consciousness gradually begins to take shape, Kuroo notices that, despite being bundled up in the warmth of the comforter, he feels a little chillier than normal. His temperature is something he’s started paying attention to, ever since he started waking up with Daichi beside him. He's used to waking up surrounded by the comfort of Daichi's natural heat now. He pokes a bare foot from his cocoon to scout out the spot to his right, hoping to discover a mass of sweet, warm, boyfriend--he fails, though, finding only an empty expanse of cool sheets, and finally lifts his head up, eyes squinting.

The curtains are drawn halfway, sunlight teasing through and tinting the walls with a light gold. It is a quiet Sunday morning, which means that Kuroo has nothing major he needs to do, but which also means that he should not and cannot be awake any hour before noon. It’s a matter of principle, you see.

But a cursory glance at the clock reads 10:48 AM, and having collapsed into bed as soon as he got home last night, Kuroo’s already gotten a full ten and a half hours of sleep. Having spent the last five minutes squirming around, he has briefly had the chance to reprogram himself for the morning, and he is now wide-eyed and awake, even more so without Daichi next to him to cuddle back to sleep. He thinks about the boxes sitting just outside their room that he and Daichi still need to unpack--they’d been putting off house chores for the weekend--and realizes they need to get that done today. With a little resolve, he flops himself over to stare at the ceiling, arms spread across the mattress starfish-style.

It has been exactly one week since Kuroo moved in with Daichi. Kuroo still feels floaty about it, really--he never imagined that his tip-toe feelings would have ever evolved to, well, _this_. Sometimes he still questions how he was ever able to sway Daichi into entering a relationship him; he never would have guessed that his awkwardly delivered pick-up lines would have actually worked on Daichi, or that he would ever be charmed enough by Kuroo to actually be willing to kiss him (or, you know, move in with him). Kuroo had always been ever the natural charmer, what with his slick hair, piercing stare, and honeyed words, but somehow Daichi had been the only one to tear down all his walls this way, leaving him and his heart bare and stuttering and oh so longing. It’s a miracle, is what it is, yet one year later here Kuroo is lying in their shared bed, encased in sheets infused with Daichi’s sweet, woody scent, and he’s just so _happy_ and hopeful and warm and--

A wild sneeze over takes him then, sending shivers through his entire body.

Right. It isn’t just his feelings making him warm, Kuroo realizes, abruptly pulling the breaks on his recollection train. He has a cold to deal with, and a Daichi to find.

With an aggressive sniffle, Kuroo makes to free himself from his cocoon, carefully untangling his legs from the comforter before rolling out of bed and raising long arms for a much-needed stretch. He spots a hoodie draped over a chair, and crouches down to pick it up and slip it on. It is soft and cozy and slightly baggy on him--probably Daichi’s, since Kuroo’s somehow managed to ruin all of his own in the laundry--and he’d definitely be taking a big whiff of Daichi’s scent from it if his nose weren’t so stuffed up. He remembers to pull on his fuzzy penguin socks (Daichi had already scolded him multiple times for walking barefoot on the cold wooden floor) before padding out of the bedroom, bedhead and all, in search of his boyfriend.

“Dai?” he calls, shuffling through the hallway.

There really aren’t many places for Daichi to be in their little apartment. It’s a small 1LDK flat, which sounds small in theory, but it’s cozy, and he and Daichi were lucky enough to find a place with rooms spacious enough for the two of them. So when Kuroo hears the muted whir of the kitchen fan and the clanking of a pan on the stove, he heads toward the kitchen, past all the packed moving boxes sitting idly in the hallway.

Poking his head around the corner of the kitchen wall, Kuroo finds Daichi in an ensemble of pajamas, an apron, and dad socks, prodding around at something on the stove. He grins to himself--he doesn’t think he’ll ever get over this image, of Daichi with mussed hair, shuffling around their kitchen, being cute and domestic and like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

Kuroo sneaks up behind his unsuspecting boyfriend and slinks an arm around his waist. “Morning, babe,” he says, voice slightly raspy and not at all as slick as he’d hoped to sound. He clears his throat a little.

Daichi startles and whips his head around, eyes wide. “Tetsu! Don’t scare me like that, jeez. Did you just get up?”

“Kinda. Just wanted to see what you were up to that was better than being in bed with me,” he smirks, burying his nose into Daichi’s hair and placing a kiss on his temple. “Making breakfast?”

Daichi grimaces from beneath his arms. “Yeah, well...trying to, at least,” he says. Daichi bites his lip and glances guiltily at the pan in front of him. “It was supposed to be for you and me.”

Kuroo is impressed; he knows Daichi has mentioned not having much experience cooking and he is _touched_ that he would try his hand at it to make breakfast for the two of them. So he follows Daichi’s line of sight to see what kind of lovely meal he is cooking up and-- _ah_.

Lying helplessly in the pan is a mess of half over-cooked, half-burnt scrambled eggs accompanied by some sausages and a slowly burning slice of toast. The eggs have invaded every surface of the pan like some kind of crumbly nemesis, and in the middle sits a small puddle of oil that looks almost lost, like it was haphazardly added halfway through with no clear purpose in mind.

”Er,” Kuroo starts. He supposes he might have noticed the burning if it weren’t for his nose being completely out of commission. He checks the stove controls--at least everything is turned off. _Maybe a little practice is in order_ , he thinks.

Daichi looks up at him, lips pursed in a slight frown. “It can’t be saved, can it?” he sighs.

“I mean, it’s...not bad? Maybe? Probably?” Kuroo doesn’t want to trample all over Daichi’s efforts, but truth be told, he’s not fond of the idea of eating oily, burnt eggs right now.

Daichi shoots Kuroo a “yeah, right” face and nudges him aside so he can flip the contents of the pan into the trash. Kuroo makes no effort to stop him.

“Babe, you should’ve woken me up. I could’ve made breakfast, you know,” Kuroo says, rubbing his nose a little. It would have been a little early, but hey, it’s their first real weekend together, so maybe a celebratory breakfast could have been nice.

“Well, you like to sleep in on the weekends. And you’re sick.” Daichi deposits the dirty pan into the sink and eyes Kuroo carefully. “Also, are you sure you don’t want to go back to bed? You look a lot worse than you did yesterday.”

Kuroo slaps a hand to his chest. “I’m _wounded,_ Daichi! I didn’t think you were the type to focus on _looks_. After all this time--”

“Yeah, yeah, you want some porridge? I picked some up earlier so you could eat it later, but you might as well have it now.” Daichi opens up the fridge and produces a little plastic convenience store bag. “There’s some cold medicine in the cabinet, too.”

“Aww, thanks babe. But I’m pretty sure it’s just a stuffy nose. I probably won’t die. Hopefully.”

Daichi hums, soaping up the dirty dishes. Kuroo stands out of his way, silently inspecting the collection of breakfast ingredients, in all of their different packages, resting on the counter. He feels a little bad that Daichi went out of his way to do this for them when he was sleeping in, dead to the world.

“So what prompted...breakfast?” Kuroo asks, waving his hand at the food. “I thought you’d have wanted to sleep in too, after last night.” They had gone out for a drink with Suga and Bokuto the night before, and it had been pretty...wild, to say the least, especially after a long week. It had reminded them of their good old college days--of course, with lots of things having changed now--and they had let themselves go a little bit. Thankfully, they’d managed to get home just a little past midnight (they were older now, they couldn’t help that they got tired early), toeing off their shoes and heading straight to the bedroom to knock out. Kuroo is actually impressed that Daichi had managed to get up early after that, but maybe he shouldn’t be; Daichi has typically been a rather early riser.

“Well, you always seem to be cooking for me,” Daichi says, focusing on scraping his pan. “And I wanted to give it a shot since, you know, I haven’t exactly contributed to meals since we moved in.” He looks a little guilty about it, but Kuroo honestly doesn’t see why he should. He would cook all day for Daichi if he wanted him to.

Kuroo props himself against the counter with long arms and quirks his head to the side. “I don’t mind,” he remarks. “I like cooking. And recently we’ve been eating out or getting take out for the most part anyway, so it’s not a big deal.”

It’s true. The last week has been abnormally busy for the two of them, what with the move and all, and Kuroo has only cooked dinner once and made bentos for them twice, maybe three times. The rest of their meals have all been ramen stand meet-ups or quick convenience store lunches, except for Friday, when they went for dinner at a small but quaint family restaurant in the neighborhood, just a 10-minute walk away from their apartment.

“No, I mean,” Daichi starts, shifting away a little to hide the pink blooming across his cheeks, “I want to cook for you too, though. It’s harder than it looks, though,” he mumbles. “Everything just started burning.”

Kuroo feels his heart melt a little. He imagines a determined Daichi, rising early to go buy breakfast ingredients at the market, carefully arranging the eggs and bread in the pan, only for his face to fall when he realizes that everything is burning and none of the things he planned to make had actually turned out.

“Aww _babe_ ,” he coos, bringing Daichi into his arms again. “You really don’t have to. But if you want, maybe we can try cooking together? How about we do dinner tonight? After we unpack everything."

Daichi considers, and looks up at him. “That sounds good. Something easy then?” He suggests, because he'd like to be able to contribute.

“How about curry? It’s pretty much just cut-up-stuff-and-throw-it-in-a-pot.”

“Okay, I should be able to handle that, at least,” Daichi agrees, grinning.

“We can make it a _thing_ ,” Kuroo smirks, tucking his face into the crook of Daichi’s neck, “our lovey-dovey cooking lessons.”

Daichi gives him a shove and rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t try to hide his smile.

 

\--

 

The two of them spend the rest of the afternoon tidying and unpacking their moving boxes, finally having the time to add the finishing touches to the apartment.

As Kuroo dusts off some trinkets and picture frames for the living room, Daichi shoves the last of his books into the bookcase. Now, their apartment looks more like the home they’d imagined when they first came to see it.

“Alright,” Daichi exhales, swiping some dust off his pants, “I think that’s pretty much it. Wanna take a break?”

“Mmkay,” Kuroo says from the other wall, “let me just hang this up really quick.” In his hands is a picture from their first “real” date--the two of them had made a trip to Disney Sea and Kuroo had _insisted_ they take a selfie with the souvenir headbands they had purchased. In the picture, Kuroo is wearing his [Tigger headband](https://i.ebayimg.com/images/g/eyMAAOSwE9pbyYDO/s-l300.jpg), flashing a peace sign and a vibrant grin, and Daichi stands to his right, sporting a [Chip and Dale headband](https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0012/6373/0747/products/pre-order-tokyo-disney-resort-headband-chip-dale_636_x700.jpg?v=1533720825), shooting the camera a thumbs up and a wide smile. Daichi still chuckles to himself remembering how they’d been dancing and blushing around each other the whole day, accidentally bumping into each other and apologizing profusely for it. That is, until Daichi had finally mustered up the courage to just take Kuroo’s hand and intertwine their fingers, saying more nonchalantly than he felt, “we’re going out now, aren’t we?”

It’s a far cry from how they are now, with their spontaneous hand-holding and lazy kisses at every chance. Daichi is kind of, but not really, embarrassed about it; he’d never imagined he’d be the touchy-feely type, but with Kuroo he finds he doesn’t even mind. It’s not like they’re gross with the PDA, but they’re comfortable with each other, is all.

After straightening out the picture frame, Kuroo flops down onto the couch into the center of the room. “Ooooh,” he groans, head dipping back into the cushions. “This is nice.”

But he is soon overtaken by a fit of sneezes, and after a few moments, is able to end them with a loud snuff. It turns out this cold might be a little more intense than they both thought.

“Ughh, this cold is going to kill me.” Kuroo says, and turns his head to gaze intently at Daichi. He raises his arms toward him, beckoning him over as if requesting a hug. It’s a childish move, but obviously Daichi is weak for it.

Daichi shuffles over to him, settling in his lap and combing his fingers through Kuroo’s fringe. “You okay? Sorry to make you do this when you’re sick.”

“Mm, it’s okay, we had to do it sometime. But I wouldn’t mind taking a reward, you know,” Kuroo says, puckering his lips as he angles for a kiss.

Daichi intercepts Kuroo, cupping a palm over his mouth. "Noope. Someone here needs to stay alive to pay the bills," he grins. He pecks the back of the hand covering Kuroo’s pout before leaning in to drape himself over Kuroo’s shoulder, bodies slotting perfectly against one another.

“Nnnnn, fine.”

The two of them quiet down for a bit, limbs entwined, silently taking in the image of their newly decorated apartment. With everything in place, it finally hits Daichi that he is, in fact, starting a new life together with Kuroo. His heart clenches a little from within his chest.

But before he can get too sentimental, he rolls off of his boyfriend and pats Kuroo’s thigh as he gets off the couch. “Alright. Time to get up. We still have dinner to get ready for.”

“Aww, we were having a moment there!” Kuroo whines.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t you have a _lovey-dovey cooking lesson_ planned for me?”

“Oh!” That gets Kuroo off the couch. “That I do,” he says, and he slides over with Daichi to the kitchen to see what they need for dinner.

 

\--

 

When it comes to dinner planning, Daichi lets Kuroo take the wheel. They’re missing a few ingredients, so they make their way to the local grocery store, fluffy scarves and reusable bags in tow. Daichi makes sure to load Kuroo up with all the winter accessories he can find, because _you don’t need your cold getting any worse, Tetsu._

It’s a relatively quick trip; the air outside is getting crisper and colder and the sun is beginning to set a brilliant orange and purple. Both of them are hungry after a tolling afternoon of physical labor, so they try to get in and out of the grocery store to return home as soon as possible. Kuroo picks up a box of curry, as well as some beef and vegetables to go along with it, while Daichi fetches a few necessities that they also need, like eggs and paper towels and also another bottle of hand soap for the kitchen. As soon as they get home, they place all the ingredients on the counter and slip on aprons--the hundred-yen polka-dot kitty-cat ones that Kuroo had found and fell in love with at first sight.

“Okay!” Kuroo claps his hands together. “Let’s get this party started.”

Daichi lets out a soft snort and gets to reading the directions on the curry box. “Okay, so we have carrots, beef, potatoes, onions...Wait!” His eyes dart around the kitchen. “Did we get the onions?”

“Oh, we had one leftover from the week so I didn’t bother buying another. Can you grab it? It’s sitting in the food basket,” Kuroo says, pulling a pot out from under the counter. He’s good at making inventory of all the things they have, even if it’s not much at the moment.

Daichi does as he is told, and carefully digs around the basket before extracting an onion from the bottom. Kuroo is busy rustling through the drawers to find the tools they need to start cooking, so Daichi makes work of arranging the rest of the ingredients, placing them carefully in a line as a nice visual. He is just about to start measuring the water they need when Kuroo appears beside him and peers intently over his shoulder.

“So all the ingredients are here, should we start peeling the carrots and stuff?” Daichi asks, turning to face Kuroo. It is then that he realizes that Kuroo has stilled and is gazing straight at him, lips pursed tightly in a curved line. Daichi knows, this is the expression he always has when he wants to tease him but is considering whether or not he should.

“What? Are we missing something?” He glances back at the ingredients on the counter.

Kuroo looks at the onion, then at Daichi. Then at the onion again.

“Daichi, my dear, my darling,” he says amusedly, biting his lips to prevent the laughter from leaking out, “that’s not an onion.”

Daichi furrows his brows. “What? How is this not an onion?” Because really--he may be bad at cooking but he should know his foods. Right?

“That’s garlic!” Kuroo exclaims.

Not really, apparently.

Daichi thinks Kuroo is fucking with him until he reaches over to pull out an actual onion, perfectly round and smooth, from the basket. “ _This_ is an onion,” Kuroo says, placing it on the counter. _Ah,_ Daichi realizes. _That looks vaguely familiar._

On the other hand, Kuroo hadn’t realized Daichi was quite this inexperienced with cooking--wouldn’t most twenty-something year-olds be able to tell the difference between garlic and onions? But it’s fine; that’s what he’s here for, after all--to lovingly guide his culinarily inept boyfriend through the complex craft of cooking. He actually finds it unbearably cute that Daichi can’t distinguish his raw vegetables, especially when he looks at him this way, genuine puzzlement forming in his eyes.

“Oh.” Daichi putters, slightly embarrassed, “Well, they...kind of look the same, don’t they? They have skins! And this root thing! And they’re both bulby things!” He picks the onion up and gestures wildly at it.

“Okay, I’ll give you that. But onions are bigger and rounder,” Kuroo points out with a laugh. “Garlic has these segmented bits.”

Daichi grunts, because seeing the two together, they actually are not that similar, and he doesn’t have much more to defend himself with. Maybe he really should study up on his foods. How did he manage to mix the two up?

After a moment of processing, Daichi speaks up again. “Alright, so...onion. We need to cut it, right?”

“Actually, I’ll take care of that. Don’t want you crying onion tears during your first cooking lesson,” Kuroo teases. He plucks the onion out of Daichi’s hands with a grin. “But we need to prep all the veggies first, oh, and rice! Can you make some rice?”

And yes, of course Daichi can, because this time he's completely confident he won't mess it up.

Daichi concentrates on measuring the rice-- _two cups should be fine for curry, right? Or maybe three would be better--_ while Kuroo washes the vegetables and pulls out the cutting board for the meat. They chat idly, shooting teasing remarks back and forth and sharing gossip about the insane customers and rowdy students they’ve encountered at work. By the time Daichi presses the start button on the rice cooker, Kuroo has begun working on the beef, trimming off the larger pieces of fat and slicing it into precise cubes with ease. Daichi finds himself staring a little, quieting as he becomes mesmerized by the expert way in which Kuroo handles the knife. He has seen Kuroo cook before, knows he can cook, but it’s a little different watching him in their kitchen like this. He silently thinks that it’s incredibly hot that Kuroo knows his way around the kitchen so well. But of course, that’s something admit aloud under only the severest of life-threatening circumstances.

“--can you believe it? And then she _threw a_ _beaker--_ oh! Are you done?” Kuroo’s voice cuts through his thoughts. “Can you peel the carrots and potatoes?”

“Ah, right.”

Daichi grabs the peeler and begins stripping the vegetables in a careful, methodical fashion. He works slowly but diligently, making sure each bit of skin is peeled off to reveal the smooth, inner goodness of the veggies. Kuroo works behind him, sauteeing the meat and chopping a few of the vegetable ingredients.

It is when Daichi is peeling the last carrot when he hears a loud sniffle behind him. At first, he thinks it’s because of Kuroo’s worsening cold, and is slightly concerned, glancing back at his boyfriend to check on him. But then he hears a quiet, choked, _sob_ accompanied by an “ _oh my god,_ ” and he drops his peeler to see what exactly is going on.

“Tetsu, what’s wro--”

Daichi pauses as a teary Kuroo blinks up at him, fat tears rolling down his cheeks. _Chop_.

“It’s nothing!”

Kuroo is holding an onion in one hand and a knife in the other. He hastily wipes his eyes with a sleeve.

“Are you _crying_?” Daichi asks. “ _Now_ who has the onion tears, huh?” he says, grin slowly spreading wide across his face.

“No, it’s--this onion is just...really strong, okay!”

“Uh-huh, mister _let-me-handle-the-onions_ ,” Daichi smirks, inching into Kuroo’s space, “I thought you said you--oh my god!”

Daichi flinches back as soon as he comes within range of the onion’s fumes, eyes squinting and already filling with tears. He flings his arms up to his face, a flimsy defense against the attack power of the onion.

“My eyes!”

“I told you! It’s a monster!” Kuroo dabs away at his face with a sleeve, eyes red and sniffling all the while. Had it been any other place at any other time, anyone looking at Kuroo’s face might have thought he had just been traumatized from some kind of violently hellish experience. It wasn’t far from the truth, really.

Daichi rubs at his own eyes, and, having moved out of the onion’s death reach, is given the chance to recover himself. Kuroo seems to still be struggling with the fumes, so he grabs a napkin and turns Kuroo’s head so he can rub away the dampness on his cheeks. He pats diligently at Kuroo’s eyes and nose, observing Kuroo’s face closely as he wipes the moisture dry. While he is doing this, he feels the corners of his lips turning upwards as realizes how silly the situation is, the two of them panicking over onion-induced eye burning. Kuroo scrunches his eyes closed, and maybe it’s the way that Kuroo wiggles his nose--kind of like a needy baby kitten--but Daichi splutters then, hands still in position to dab Kuroo’s tears away, and he launches into giggles at the silly sight of Kuroo’s dumb, adorable face.

“It stiiings,” Kuroo whines, but Daichi only snickers louder, shoulders beginning to shake and head dipping forward in an effort to control himself. Kuroo can only pout disbelievingly at his boyfriend’s betrayal as his face gets jerked to and fro along with Daichi’s hands.

Daichi responds with a, “Your _face--”,_ but that’s about all he can eek out before he chokes out another snigger, and Kuroo pouts a little, because he’s _trying_ to cut the onion here, he can’t help it if it’s making his tear glands a little active, it’s _natural, you know_.

But Daichi’s laugh is contagious, of course--who _wouldn’t_ want to laugh along with Daichi’s loud, hearty chuckles, honestly--and Kuroo feels his mouth crinkle just barely before he snorts a little, the sound reminiscent of an offended horse.

Daichi pauses and meets his eyes then, and it doesn’t take long before the two of them break out into full blown hysterics, knees weak and arms scrambling for support on the counter. The more they laugh, the harder their eyes sting, and at this point they are doubled over like bendy straws--neither of them even really know what they’re laughing about anymore, but like everything they do together, it feels as natural as breathing (or at least it would, if their abs and their eyes didn’t hurt so much).

“Oh my god, put the knife down,” Daichi hiccups, panting for air, and Kuroo does just that, but not without another bout of laughter.

Daichi figures the two of them must look ridiculous right now, crouched in the middle of the kitchen, snickering and weeping and frantically seeking relief from the chemical warfare of a farm vegetable. But seeing Kuroo like this, snorting unattractively with snot beginning to dribble from his nose, makes him realize that this is a side of Kuroo that only he has the privilege of seeing, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Daichi is just beginning to even out his breathing again, and he gazes at Kuroo, who is also hunched over and catching his breath, and his thoughts begin to dance around a single idea, that is, just how badly he would like to kiss Kuroo right now, sicky snot and all.

But before he can completely process that idea, Kuroo jumps up, noticing that the potato laying on the counter is beginning to oxidize, turning an unattractive shade of brown, and they hurry to get back to prepping. Maybe he’ll tend to that idea later; they have a dinner to make.

They get back into the cooking groove again, and with Daichi’s moral support, Kuroo manages to safely cut up the rest of the onion. Once the rest of the ingredients are chopped up, they fire up the stove for a brief sautee, and Daichi empties his carefully measured pitcher of water into the pot.

“Okay,” Daichi says, clapping his hands together, “the directions say it should simmer for about 40 minutes.”

Kuroo raises a hand. “Wait, wait, wait.”

“Hmm? Did I miss something?”

“No. But next step is the most important step, you know.”

“And what’s that?”

“We cuddle,” Kuroo nods solemnly, and Daichi rolls his eyes playfully because well, what is he gonna say to that.

Kuroo sets a timer for the pot, and they head over to the living room to flop down on their newly arranged sofa. Daichi curls up into Kuroo’s side, and they pull up an episode of the new volleyball anime that just came out a few weeks ago. They’re both hooked on it--who knew sports anime could be so emotional and relatable?--and Daichi makes comments about how crazy guess blocking is while Kuroo staunchly defends the read block, gesturing animatedly with one hand while playing with the tips of Daichi’s short hair in the other.

 

\--

 

They manage to get through an episode and a half before the curry timer goes off. It’s just a little longer before the curry is done; Daichi opens up the pot to the unimpressive sight of watery brown stew, and Kuroo gingerly breaks the curry roux block into pieces, dropping them in one by one and stirring the pot. Kuroo puts the heat back on to let the mixture simmer, and by the time they finish the episode they are watching, the curry is ready, releasing a thick aroma of warmth and spices and home.

Daichi closes his eyes and inhales deeply, taking in the rich scent of the curry. “Oh my god, I’m so ready for this,” he sighs. An audible growl from his stomach seconds his notion.

Kuroo is beside him, scooping perfect mounds of rice into their bowls and passing them over.  Looking forward to finally digging in, Daichi is about to ladle out the curry when Kuroo jumps and stops him.

“Wait! There’s one more thing I forgot about,” Kuroo exclaims, and he moves to rummage through the cupboard. After a minute, he pulls out a flat, rectangular object and brandishes it at Daichi. Across the front, in big bold letters, reads “Meiji Milk Chocolate.”

“Chocolate? Tetsu, I’m starving, let’s eat our curry first and we’ll have that for dessert or something.”

“Nope. This is for the curry. It’s supposed to elevate it to _new heights,”_ Kuroo says pointedly, already unwrapping the chocolate with deft fingers.

“Really? How?”

“Depth of flavor,” Kuroo responds simply, and he holds the chocolate hostage over the pot. “I read it on the internet.”

“The _whole_ bar?” The doubt is clear in Daichi’s eyes.

“I don’t know, but let’s see how it goes, shall we?” Kuroo seems adamant.

“You mean you’ve never tried it before?” Daichi demands, because heck if his long-awaited dinner is going to be ruined by a tip some rando posted on the internet. He just wants to eat now. And it wouldn’t be the first time Kuroo has gotten a little too excited about a bad idea someone planted in his head. Both him and Akaashi could tell stories about that all day long.

“Why don’t you just try like, one block at a time? I swear if it ends up tasting like hot chocolate--”

“Life is either a daring adventure or nothing at all,” Kuroo nods sagely, and then he has the _audacity_ to stare straight into Daichi’s eyes as he lets the entire bar of chocolate drop into the pot. His jaw drops as he watches the chocolate die a melty death.

Shutting his eyes, Daichi sighs and massages the space between his eyes with his thumb and index finger. “You better be right about this, Tetsu.”

Kuroo smirks confidently, stirring the chocolate in. And okay, maybe he wasn’t sure _exactly_ sure how much chocolate was recommended, or if he was supposed to throw the _entire_ bar in, but Daichi would never know that. Kuroo stands by his actions. After all, go hard or go home, right?

Thankfully, the chocolate melts in without any troubles, and the two of them are finally able to fix themselves two piping hot bowls of curry. They seat themselves at the dining table, utensils in hand, and say their thanks for the food.

Daichi doesn’t hesitate to take the first bite. He chews for a bit, and Daichi watches his reaction. At first, Daichi’s expression is rather neutral, but then his eyes widen slightly, and he meets Kuroo’s eyes as he takes another mouthful.

“Good?” Kuroo asks. “How’s that chocolate tasting?” he smirks. He really hopes he didn’t ruin the curry, but judging by Daichi’s reaction so far that doesn’t seem to be the case.

“Okay, this...is amazing,” Daichi says, almost reluctantly, looking down at the bowl in front of him.

“Ohoho?”

“I’m not gonna say it’s because of the chocolate, okay,” Daichi starts, “but wow. I don’t think I’ve had curry like this before.” He takes another bite, and releases a moan that is downright inappropriate. Kuroo wiggles in his seat a bit at that. “We did a good job.”

“Wow, it's that good?” and Daichi nods wordlessly, emitting only sounds of pleasure as he continues to shovel curry into his mouth.

Kuroo gets caught up in watching Daichi chow down the curry. He’s hungry, too, of course--but Daichi is one of those people who eats in such a way that everything looks tasty, and he grins to himself--now that they live together, he can pretty much watch Daichi eat like this as much as he wants.

Daichi wiggles his spoon at Kuroo. “You’re not gonna eat?”

“No, I am,” Kuroo responds, and watching Daichi has gotten him pretty hyped. He wants to see just how good this chocolate-infused curry is, if it can pull that kind of sound out of Daichi. He digs in for his first spoonful, excited to reap the flavors of their precious first homemade meal together, and takes a large bite. He is prepared for the fireworks to go off, for his taste buds to sing hallelujah in thanks for blessing them with this culinary goodness. But alas.

He chews, blank faced, and spoons another bite into his mouth. He stills.

“Daichi,” he says solemnly, corners of his lips pulling downwards.

Daichi looks up at him questioningly. “What’s up? Do you not like it? I thought it was pretty good.”

“Daichi,” he says again. “I forgot. I can’t taste anything.”

Of course--his stuffy nose.

“I can’t believe this,” Kuroo sighs. “Our first home-cooked meal together and _I can’t taste anything_!” He emphasizes his exclamation with a sniffle.

Daichi watches as even Kuroo’s hair starts to wilt. They both know it isn’t _really_ a big deal--it’s laughable, even--and Kuroo isn’t _that_ sad about his temporarily disabled senses, but he loves to be dramatic. "Aw, babe, I’m sorry. We can save it for when you get over your cold?” Daichi suggests. “Or we can just make it again when you get better.”

Kuroo looks up at him, unruly bangs hiding his right eye. “Yes, please,” he says, and then he makes Daichi promise to describe what he’s tasting in detail as he spoons his own tasteless curry into his mouth.

 

\--

 

When they finish their meal, they are back on the couch again. Kuroo is still bitter about his cold and missing his chance at enjoying the taste of the curry with Daichi.

“We’ll make it again, don’t worry. Will a kiss make you feel better?” Daichi laughs, inching towards Kuroo’s face.

Kuroo pouts. “Yes.”

But when Daichi gets closer, Kuroo uses a hand to squeeze his cheeks, preventing him from advancing further.

“Wait--I was kidding, you’re gonna catch my cold, Dai.”

“Please, I haven’t caught a cold in years.”

“Those are famous last words,” Kuroo teases, “but no really, that’s what I said to Bokuto too, and now look--”

“Life is either a daring adventure or nothing at all, no?” Daichi says, and Kuroo is momentarily stunned by the sly maneuvering of his own words against him, and his mouth gapes open like a fish as he scrambles through his thoughts for a retort.

“What--”

Daichi leans forward to plant his lips on Kuroo’s, effectively shutting Kuroo up. “Just shut up and kiss me,” he murmurs against him, and really, Kuroo isn’t going to say anything against that.

When Daichi pulls back, Kuroo realizes. “Oh god,” he says, “now next time _you_ won’t be able to taste the curry. We’ll have to postpone it.”

Daichi chuckles. “You underestimate my immune system,” he says, poking a finger into Kuroo’s chest, “and it’s okay, I’ve already tasted it so we can make it just for you.”

Yeah, there _is_ a chance Daichi will catch Kuroo’s cold. But he can be with Kuroo like this, and he can kiss him all he wants.

He figures it’s worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> After story notes:  
> \- Daichi doesn’t get sick. Kuroo feels as if he’s lost to him somehow.  
> \--  
> Other notes:  
> \- most of the cooking scenes are based off of true stories!  
> \- I forgot how long it takes to make curry, oops :( So I took some liberties and assumed that two full grown men didn’t get (too) hangry or starve waiting ~2 hours (including the grocery run) to make their dinner lol  
> \- Kuroo's cold was actually part of a plot point that I ended up editing out, but hopefully it still makes sense???  
> \- Also I’m so sorry I have no idea how this story ended up being 40% about onions
> 
> This is my first fic and unbetaed so I apologize for any mistakes! Thank you for reading!


End file.
